


The Price of Vengeance

by la_vie_en_gris (lastdreamofmysoul)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastdreamofmysoul/pseuds/la_vie_en_gris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She came to visit him everyday at the hospital, just so she could always remember how soft his silvery hair felt between her fingers and how there was still a pulse in his veins. A pulse meant that he was alive, and that was good, but still not good enough. Nothing was going to be good enough, until the day he opened his eyes and smiled at her again.</p>
<p>And until that day arrived, she was going to make them pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So yeah, I've been busy writing my piece for the Dark!Hetalia Fic Exchange, organized by hetaliasanguis on tumblr, and this is my story. :) It's a Serial Killer AU, and I hope you enjoy it. I'll be getting back to my ongoing works soon! 
> 
> Also, I apologise if the characters don't seem too developed. I really didn't like how I portrayed Ivan in this story, and I wish I had the time to go deeper into his character but unfortunately I didn't. 
> 
> (Trigger warnings for mentions of suicide - again, if any of you feel that I am in any way being disrespectful with how I have written the murder motives, please do let me know)

They were at a dead end again.

Inspector Kirkland slammed his fist onto the desk. “It’s been months and we have yet to find a solid lead yet!”

His untouched cup of tea toppled over and the dark liquid spilled onto the documents lying haphazardly on the mahogany table. Inspector Jones, his company for the evening, immediately rushed to salvage the papers detailing the murders that they had been so painstakingly trying to solve.

“What’s the point?” Arthur growled, glaring at the stack of papers in Alfred’s hands while furiously pulling tissue out from the box by his side. “So much information but we’re still fucking stuck.”

The first two murders had occurred in January, one of the victims being Katyusha Braginsky, a woman known for her kind-heartedness. It puzzled the inspectors why anyone would want to murder her, for all of her friends whom they questioned had spoken well of her. She had been found dead in her home by her sister; body limp and sprawled on the bathroom floor. The cause had been cyanide poisoning, and after searching through her house, it had been discovered that the culprit had been a cosmetic tester, mailed to her. The other victim, Lilli Zwingli, also known for being a sweet and friendly young lady, had died from the same reasons as well. In fact, the company whose information had been included in a flyer that came along with the tester packets was a legitimate company, but a few lawsuits and several weeks of examination yielded nothing, except for everyone pointing fingers at each other and panic rising amongst the company’s loyal customers. After the firing of several employees and a decreased clientele, the company finally closed down weeks later. 

Arthur had been placed in charge of the cosmetic murders, and he had nearly driven himself crazy trying to shortlist suspects. His team had deduced that the person who had slipped the cyanide into the cosmetic products must have been working in the company because otherwise how would they have gained access to the products? The head investigator had been so hell-bent on solving the case that he had called a search on all of the employees, but that only led to squabbling and suspicion within the company, which merely increased his dilemma as the team went around in circles again and again. They had not even managed to narrow down the list of suspects, when the third murder occurred in March.

  

The third victim had been a Russian man by the name of Ivan Braginsky, found to be the brother of Katyusha – a big and sturdy man, no doubt, but he had collapsed in his office; his strong frame reduced to convulsions as he lost consciousness. The cause had been poisoning, but the police had not been able to confirm who the perpetrator had been. A few suspects had been arrested – all of his colleagues and staff, but a few weeks of investigation had proved none of them guilty. It was later discovered that again, the poison had specifically been cyanide, found in his coffee this time.  

Yet, it had been obvious that the murders were linked, and the target was possibly the Braginsky family. Ivan had been the CEO of a marketing company and he had been known for being ruthless and strict towards his employees, to the point when he would threaten them with unemployment. It was rumored that he had often fired people even after they had lost _only_ one client and that he had once sent his secretary packing immediately just because she had made him the wrong type of coffee. After all, Ivan was _very_ particular about his coffee.

Evidently, Ivan had not been very well-liked by those around him. The first suspect on the list had been Toris Laurinaitis, who had worked under Ivan and had been subjected to his threats and eventual firing before joining his friend’s, Feliks Łukasiewicz’s company – which happened to be the cosmetics company involved in the first two murders. Toris definitely had a motive to get back at Ivan for how badly he had been treated, but it seemed too much to kill Katyusha and Lilli. After much questioning, it had also been proven that Toris did not know Lilli or Katyusha, and hence was eliminated off the suspect list. Feliks himself had been suspected for getting back at Ivan, who had instigated suing his company and leading to his eventual ruin, but he had no motive to murder Ivan’s sister, or innocent Lilli either. 

But then when Feliks himself was murdered in April, Arthur was sure that they were dealing with a serial killer.

* * *

She never meant to get rid of Katyusha and Lili, but a distraction had been needed. Her first target had been Ivan – oh, how that bastard annoyed her _so much_. She had wanted him gone; along with Feliks. Both of them had caused enough trouble, and she wanted to make them pay for what they had done to him. 

Him. Gilbert. Her Gil. 

She came to visit him everyday at the hospital, just so she could always remember how soft his silvery hair felt between her fingers and how there was still a pulse in his veins. A pulse meant that he was alive, and that was good, but still not good enough. Nothing was going to be good enough, until the day he opened his eyes and smiled at her again. 

Gilbert Beilschmidt had shot himself in the head a year ago, and ended up somewhere between Life and Death in a coma. She did not know why he had chosen to take his own life, but when she found out about his attempt she had been absolutely devastated. Food had been left untouched, clothes had been left unchanged, and she had stayed in bed for days, asking herself over and over again,

_“Why?”_

Until one day, she found his diary.

 

_“Dear Diary,_

_Today Braginsky fired me. It was only one client, I swear, and he wasn’t even that important. Still, I fucked up again. I’m sorry…”_

 

Finally, she got the answers to her whys.

 

_“Dear Diary,_

_I met Feliks and Toris today. Turns out they’re both working in this really successful company. We were never close, but I remember feeling horribly inadequate because I lost to them in that basketball match in high school. It had been really important; that match. But unsurprisingly, I messed up and they won – they had amazing teamwork, and it was obvious that I was the biggest failure in my team. You should have seen their smug faces. They pitied me because I lost the final chance to score. I was never needed. I’m unnecessary in this world...”_

 

Finally, she knew who had been responsible for her beloved’s state.

_That was it_ , she thought. She was going to give a surprise to Gilbert when he woke up, a surprise so wonderful and fantastic that he’d never have to feel that way again (it pained her to read what Gilbert had penned down in his journal. When he suffered, she suffered too. It was as if they were linked – that was how she liked to see their relationship.) and that he would love her for. In fact, she could almost imagine it already. She could see Gilbert’s pale eyelids slowly fluttering open, those lovely red irises able to take in the world again. He would groggily mumble a few words while attempting to move his fingers – no wait, maybe she would be holding his hand and then suddenly she would feel his index finger quiver and she would call excitedly for the doctors just like in the movies… But no matter what, he would murmur her name. _Her_ name would be the only word that flowed from his lips smoothly and as clear as day; she was sure of it. Which was why before he woke up, she was going to make sure that he would never feel unneeded or unnecessary ever again. And to do that, she was going to eliminate anyone who had made him feel that way. _Permanently_.

* * *

Dealing with Feliks had not been easy. She had joined his cosmetics company in September, hoping to find an opportunity to ruin him. Before getting rid of him, she wanted him to watch his world fall apart before his very eyes, and to feel the devastation and inadequacy he had wrought upon Gilbert a million times more.

She started out as a salesperson in one of the company’s many outlets. Her colleagues were unbearable – they were gossipy, bimbotic and dense, but every morning when she got into her work uniform she reminded herself of the person she was doing everything for. The person who was still lying on a miserable hospital bed, unable to move about like a normal human being because of _Feliks_ and _Ivan_ and other bastards whom she would soon attend to. She would get rid of the two most important ones first; those whose names had appeared in Gilbert’s diary so many times, inked in his own self-loathing and despair. It was their fault, and they were going to pay for it.

Thus, she plastered a bright smile onto her face, caked her eyes and cheeks in makeup and did her best at work. It had been a success, really, and she had even made friends with her bitchy colleagues. Not that that had been considered an advantage. There had been only one advantage she was looking for, after all.

Her opportunity finally came when the one and only _Ivan Braginsky_ stepped into her shop, with his sister Katyusha by his side. It turned out that Katyusha was a fan of the cosmetics she was selling (“I absolutely _adore_ the eye shadow you sell! It’s amazing how you have something for every skin tone.”) and she had managed to convince Katyusha to write down her personal details so they could “contact her for any promotions”. She had also noticed that Ivan had followed his sister closely everywhere, and even when she was walking from shelf to shelf he trailed behind and gave his opinion dutifully. Alongside with the fact that he had taken time off his busy schedule to accompany Katyusha, it had been very obvious that he loved his sister very much. Even when they had exited the shop, Ivan had automatically took Katyusha’s shopping bags, drawing “aww”s from her thick-headed colleagues. 

She had felt nothing, except for a short-lived and slight dash of sympathy for Katyusha for having such a two-faced brother. The sight of Ivan had made her blood boil – that disgusting pale hair of his, those monstrous violet eyes and his twisted smile all made her want to retch. Did he wear that same smile when he fired Gilbert? Did his eyes shine with similar venom when he threw the contract across the table and demanded that Gilbert rewrite it? Seeing Ivan had ruined her mood, but she had noticed a chance and seized it: she now had Katyusha’s personal information. Her home address, her email address, and her handphone number. But she could not approach her directly; it was too dangerous and she could get caught. And she could not afford to get caught if she wanted to exert her revenge. Nevertheless, it seemed like her lucky streak continued, for a week later Feliks announced that he wanted to thank those who had signed up to be members and hence wanted to mail them a sample of their latest face cream. All of the sales members were deployed to help in the packing of the samples.

 

It had been simple from then onwards. She had contacted Roderich, whom she knew had always carried a torch for her. Of course, the only one she had in her heart was Gilbert, and would always be him. No one could replace Gilbert. However, she had kept in contact with Roderich in case she ever needed his help, which came into handy when she needed a solution of cyanide. 

Roderich worked in the lab, a job suitable for such a disciplined and intelligent young man, and he had been hesitant to help her at first.

_“You know this is illegal, right?”_ he had whispered into the phone, his insecurity apparent in the way he trailed off. 

“Please help me, Roderich,” she had pleaded back, making sure that her voice had been dripping with desperation. “I just need it once. Please.”

_“Braginsky has his family too, you know? If anything happens to him, his family’s going to be affected –“_  

“Gilbert’s family to me too. _Please_ , Roderich. I need to do this. For Gilbert. _For love_ ,” she managed to choke out, hoping that her voice would come across as strangled and pitiful to the man on the other end of the line.

_“I-“_  

The indecision in Roderich’s voice had been familiar. It had been the start to many unfinished “I love you”s; those three words that she knew he had always wanted to say to her but could never because Gilbert had been the only person who could make her eyes light up.

A sigh, resigned and finally consenting. _“Meet me outside my office on Monday."_  

Upon obtaining the solution, she snuck home two packets of the samples, emptied the cream inside and poured the cyanide into the small packets. She had decided on two packets because it would mislead the police and make it harder for them to discover her. One more person was a small price to pay, and she had muttered an apology when sealing the packets – it had been easy, for the packets had been resealable; another one of Feliks’ ideas to make closing them more convenient – but had not felt anything much for the would-be victim. Determination was the only thing burning in her heart, and that determination was what drove her to bring the packets back to work, to search for the sheet of stickers that held Katyusha’s address and to stick hers onto the packet she had tampered with. The other packet she had managed to slip into the box of samples her colleague, Michelle, was in charge of, and when the news reported the deaths of Katyusha and this other young woman by the name of Lili Zwingli and the police came to the company, she and her colleague had wept and fiercely denied their involvement.

Earlier on, she had often overheard the other colleagues gossiping about Michelle. Money had gone missing from the cash register, and everyone had suspected Michelle to be the one behind the stolen cash. She had actually witnessed Michelle opening the register and taking a few dollar notes when the other had thought no one was looking, but had kept quiet about it. When the police brought her and Michelle into the interrogation room, she had clutched Michelle’s small hand in hers under the table as a sign of support while tearfully explaining to the inspector that she had merely took the packet out from the cardboard box and _no_ , she did not notice anything strange about it and she had never heard of Lilli Zwingli before in her whole life. She had blabbered on about how she had met Katyusha before and the latter had been so nice and polite to the staff, and Michelle had nodded along in agreement to her every word. 

After they exited the room, Inspector Kirkland’s tone had gone from crass to plain get-the-fuck-out-from-my-sight when he asked them for the last time, “Just one more time, ma’ams, are you sure you don’t know anyone who might have put the cyanide in on purpose?" 

She had taken a quick look around, noticing many of her colleagues and even the company’s VIPs – Feliks, in his sickening blond-headed glory and Toris, his right-hand man – were present. Then, she had feigned distress and cried, “I can’t take this anymore!” before bursting into a confession about seeing Michelle stealing the money and how she might be the one behind the deaths.

“I’m so sorry, Michelle. But I can’t keep what I saw a secret anymore,” she had apologized, eyes rimming with crocodile tears once again at the sight of the disbelief in her colleague’s hazel brown eyes. Immediately, just as she had expected, the rest of the staff started backing her up, shouting accusations at Michelle and how they had suspected her for a long time.

And then when Feliks himself had stepped forward and said with uncharacteristic grimness, “Michelle, it seems that you have not embraced proper work ethics.”, she had known that her plan had worked.

Michelle, eyes widening further at her boss’ words, protested, “As if the rest of you are innocent! Jenny, I saw you pocket that bottle of perfume last month! Don’t pretend you didn’t do it!”

 Jenny, another one of the group of dense bimbos, fired back with an accusation of another colleague, and soon everyone was rattling out all of the bad things their fellow staff had did. Feliks had stomped his foot and shouted that all of them were fired, before mumbling for Toris to take him away from the ruckus. 

But his attempts to escape from the eminent trouble that his company was going to be in had failed when he found a group of reporters awaiting him outside the police station, throwing questions like how could he allow that to happen in this company? What kind of employees did he employ? Did he personally know the victims? Was there some conspiracy going on? 

The next day, his face had been splashed across the front cover of every newspaper, under loud headlines exclaiming that his company was in deep trouble due to “Two Deaths from Top Company’s New Skin Cream” and that there was “Something Brewing Behind Doors of No. 1 Cosmetics Company?” The lawsuits came, because Ivan Braginsky had had too much grief for his sister and a loaded wallet, while Vash Zwingli, brother of Lili Zwingli, had had more than enough rage to spare as well.

She had been fired, but had been able to keep track of how her plan was blossoming via the news. She watched in glee as Feliks’ company withered, and brought the papers to the hospital to read to Gilbert. The article about how Feliks’ mood had declined and he had become a shell of his former sprightly self was her favourite, and she had memorized the words of the report after scanning through it countless times. 

_“Feliks Łukasiewicz, business tycoon, has lost everything he has built in the past decade.”_ The words had slipped from her lips, sweet and pleasant, before she gingerly closed the papers and left them on Gilbert’s bedside table.

“It’s working, my dear,” she had whispered into her beloved’s ear while stroking his hair. “It’ll all be better when you wake up, I promise.”

A huge part of her had hoped that a miracle would happen and that Gilbert would wake up upon hearing that the person who had caused him so much pain had suffered, so when Gilbert’s eyelids kept shut and the only sound in the room remained her own breathing and the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor,  she lost it.

She fell back against the chair, whose hard surface had been her only support for a long time, and cried.

“Wake up, Gil. Please. Wake up. Wake up for me,” she begged repeatedly, reaching for his limp hand and squeezing it, as if it would squeeze the life back into him and make him open his eyes and sit back up again.

But alas, Gilbert slept on.

* * *

The next target had been Ivan himself. She had waited for two weeks, planning the next step in her plan. With her first move, she had already dealt with both Feliks and Ivan, bringing Feliks the pain of watching all of his hard work go down the drain and Ivan the anguish of losing his treasured sister. The next phase would be for good, and she knew it had to be absolutely foolproof. Nothing could go wrong.

She searched for a list of possible allies – looking through Gilbert’s diary again to sift out the names of people who had been preyed upon by Ivan. Pulling out the names of all those who had been fired by him due to some minor mistake, she Googled them on the internet and attempted to find out more about them. One got her attention: Tino Väinämöinen. Professional at computer programming, and fired when he failed to secure a deal. He was worth a shot.

She dialed his company’s hotline, adding his extension to the end.

“Hello? Is this Mr Väinämöinen?”

_“Yes, speaking. May I know who’s on the line?”_

She paused, giving a false name instead just to keep safe. “Have you heard of Ivan Braginsky?”

Tino’s tone immediately darkened, and he replied with a gritted “yes”.

“I have a proposition that you might be interested in. Care to have a talk about it?”

 

She ended up meeting Tino at a quiet little cafeteria. He was a young man of average height, with light-toned blond hair and clear violet eyes that bore such a similarity to Ivan’s that they had made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle at first sight. When she first entered the cafeteria, she had scanned all of its patrons and their eyes had met – emerald green against bright violet. Tino had given her a slight nod, and when she confirmed that he was wearing the same dark woolen sweater he had told her he would be in, she walked in and slid herself into the seat opposite his. However, that was when she observed that he was not sitting on a chair, but rather, he was on a wheelchair. A black fleece blanket was draped over his lap, tucked nicely so that it did not interfere with the wheels. 

When he noticed her staring, he politely coughed and extended a hand towards her. “You must be Júlia. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m sorry,” she responded and grasped his hand firmly. “That was rude of me.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled at her kindly, retracting his hand and bringing his cup of coffee to his lips.

Recalling what Gilbert wrote in his diary, she remembered that Tino had gotten into a car accident because of Ivan. After getting fired, Tino had gone to the bar and drunk himself silly – and then he had stumbled across the path of an incoming car in his drunken stupor. Since that day, he had been paralysed from the waist down, and that itself was enough to make her hatred for Ivan burn even stronger. Another person’s life had been ruined by him, and all the more he needed to pay for his sins.

“Did… Did Braginsky do this to you?” She knew that she was breaching territory, but she pushed on because it was the information that she had been relying on in order to win Tino’s favor. 

Tino stopped sipping his coffee, and looked directly at her. For a moment, she held her breath, for his eyes seemed to be looking into her soul and searching for something. She did not bother to put up any defenses, for she herself was sure that no matter how hard he looked, he would only find a thirst of revenge and her love for Gilbert.  

But then, Tino laughed. It was unexpectedly light, definitely not the laugh of someone who had been living with vengeance in his heart. It sounded more like the laugh of someone finally letting go; someone releasing his hold on a balloon pumped with resentment, and now that balloon was soaring higher and higher into the sky and he was free to live again.

That surprised her. 

“You know, after your call I sat down and really thought about it. I’d been blaming Braginsky for so long, it actually blinded me to a lot of things. I realized that my life has gotten a lot better without him – I mean, my friend introduced me to this job, this amazing guy asked me out a week ago and I rejected him just because I was still so caught on about getting my revenge on my ex-boss, who has probably forgotten all about me. Plus, it had been my decision to go drinking. I knew I shouldn’t have drank so much vodka. But oh well, he’s still a jerk, but I decided that I’m not going to let the past affect me anymore.”

She could not believe her ears. Tino was just willing to let everything slide? After Ivan had caused him to lose his ability to walk? Okay, maybe Tino had never experienced nearly losing someone he loved, watching someone dear to him suffer but yet not able to do anything much about it. Gilbert was still lying in bed, and even though she was working hard to make sure that he would have a better life one he woke up, it didn’t seem like he was going to wake up anytime soon. 

“But you’re here for something; am I right?” Tino put his cup back onto the saucer with a soft _clink_ , and gestured to the laptop on the table beside him. “I have an old laptop that I don’t need anymore, and I’m willing to sell it to you.” 

“Name your price.”

He leant forwards, and his initially friendly smile suddenly did not seem quite as innocent. “Oh, maybe a dollar? Or how about a cup of coffee? All I’m asking is that you leave me out of this, because I know that your real name isn’t Júlia." 

Once again, she could not believe that she was being threatened by this seemingly harmless, slightly chubby-looking man wearing a sweater that had tiny Moomins on it. 

“How would I know if the information inside will be useful?”

“Updated staff lists, personal profile of every employee, including everyone’s habits and favourite item in the pantry, and more.” 

It was perfect. “Deal,” she confirmed, and picked up the small laptop, thanking Tino gratefully. She cradled the device in her arm and stood up, her business with the other man finished. “I’ll pay for your coffee.”

“No problem!” Tino quipped, his amicable smile back again. Before she turned around to leave, he added, “Oh, did you hear about Braginsky’s sister and that Zwingli girl?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, I wonder who did it?”

* * *

 

Tino had not been lying when he had said that the information on the laptop would be useful. Inside, she had found detailed profiles on all of the company’s current staff, and had zoomed in on one person – Raivis Galante, the secretary. Apparently, he was in charge of buying Ivan a cup of coffee every time during lunch, and he was also known to be extremely timid and never questioned authority. This was a weakness she could definitely take advantage of.

True enough, Raivis turned up at the cafeteria stated in Tino’s information. His height and large, round eyes matched the photo included in the documents, and she watched as he nervously shuffled over to the counter, eyes darting around anxiously, as if expecting his boss to jump out from one of the chairs any second. She felt pity and disgust twist in her chest at how afraid Raivis was of Ivan, and for a moment her hold on the Styrofoam cup tightened. 

The barrister was a burly man with a huge mustache, and she could see the fear in Raivis’ eyes growing with each step he took to make his order. Cold sweat ran down his temple, and the next thing she knew she had made her move.

“Excuse me, sir,” she gently tapped the small man on the shoulder, making him jump with a yelp.

“Y-yes?” Raivis stuttered.

She adjusted the face mask she was wearing, and coughed a little. “I ordered a cup of macchiato just now, before I remembered that my doctor has advised me against it –“ she coughed harder to emphasise her point, “- but the order had already been processed. Would you be so kind as to accept this cup of coffee as a treat from me?”

Raivis looked bewildered, and he glanced briefly at the cup in her hands. “I-Is it non-fat?”

She mhm-ed in confirmation, and added, “Non-fat, extra-hot, extra-whip hazelnut macchiato with caramel drizzle.” _And extra cyanide_ , she thought.

Raivis looked like he had just won the lottery. “R-really? I thought no one had the same weird tastes as my boss. N-not that your taste is weird! B-but thank you s-so much! I’ll t-take it, if that’s alright.” 

He took the cup from her, bowed several times and thanked her over and over again, before scampering off in the joy of not having to talk to the scary barrister and of getting his boss’ order done so quickly.

But it would only been hours later before the police stormed the company and arrested him for further questioning. As she had expected, Raivis was not much help because he could not even remember the colour of her blouse. He had been too focused on staring at his shoes by habit, and all he knew was that she was a woman and that she had been coughing and wearing a face mask. The investigations, again, proved futile and as the news erupted with reports on Ivan’s death, she had earned another victory.

She had become addicted, by the intensity of the process and how much exhilaration the end result brought. The planning stage was intoxicating, especially when she stayed awake for hours brainstorming and running on pure spite. It had felt extremely productive and she had felt more alive than she had ever been. The carrying out of her plans was always much calmer, but there would always still be a sort of tension in her, waiting to be unwounded the moment the headlines reported yet another death and she could check off another name on her list. The aftermath was always the best. The satisfying, delightful taste of victory and revenge would linger in her mouth for days, and her entire being would walk on air from her home to Gilbert’s bed. She had begun enjoying _it_.

Murdering people.

* * *

 

From Tino’s findings, she had dug up records of old employees as well, and zoned in on Toris Laurinaitis, ex co-worker of Ivan’s and recent Executive Assistant to Feliks. She knew the both of them had a deep friendship, from all of the gossip she had read about them being possible lovers even. Feliks had called Toris his closest confidante in one of his old interviews, and she had watched from her laptop screen as Toris blushed and waved off Feliks’ compliments in front of the press. There was definitely something between them; she could tell. And maybe, she could use that to her advantage.

After returning home from another visit to Gilbert, two weeks after Ivan’s death, she was once again ready for the next phase in her plan. She had stalked Feliks and Toris online, hunting for any form of media about them. There had been a lot, especially from when Feliks had just begun making his mark as a business tycoon. Looking at photos of Feliks’ smug smirk made her sick, but she pushed on with the motivation of finally being able to wipe that smile off his face. She found an interview in some magazine, during which he had been asked what his favourite hideout was, and he had responded with the name of some high-end mall.

_“I usually go there to shop during the weekends, like, the shops have really fabulous clothes! I drag Liet with me too, of course, he’s such a great help when I need someone to carry my bags.”_

She read through the entire interview, with her teeth gritted and hands twisting the fabric of her skirt. Feliks’ voice appeared to be echoing in her head, its infuriating high pitch taunting her and with an angry ‘tsk’, she slammed her laptop shut and grabbed her calendar. Saturday was two days away, and she was going to check out the mall.

It had hit her that with the fall of his cosmetics empire, Feliks would not be that inclined to go shopping anytime soon, but she was prepared to wait. He would appear one day. He had to. 

She positioned herself near the fountain opposite the entrance of the mall, obscuring her face with the novel she had brought with her. Feliks did not turn up for that Saturday, nor on Sunday, but she dutifully went back again the next week, and the following week.

_“And what do you normally do to relax, Mr Łukasiewicz?”_

_“Retail therapy. The best form of therapy **ever**. Like, even if I don’t have the money I’d still go window-shopping because I love looking at clothes."_

Eventually, on Sunday, Feliks showed up. Toris was, unsurprisingly, by his side, and she watched from her spot as they paced into the mall. Feliks looked incredibly tired, with dark and heavy eyebags that sagged from his skin, and he was clad in a dark green sweater that indicated he had not spent much effort in front of his wardrobe that morning. Toris looked worse – the chestnut-haired man actually seemed to be dragging his feet, and he hunched forward and let out a hacking cough. Still, there was a smile on his face as he pushed his former boss forwards, hand a bit too low on Feliks’ back to remain within the perimeters of friendship.

She knew that that was her moment, and ensuring that Feliks and Toris were not looking, she whipped out her phone and called the press. She had chosen the most notorious gossip magazines to call, and the moment the call was picked up she started jabbering like an over-eager teenaged girl.

“Hello? Hey, you might be interested in this – I just saw Feliks Łukasiewicz _kiss_ TorisLaurinaitis! Yes, yes, they’re at that mall…" 

Soon, the paparazzi arrived and begun swarming the mall for the duo. _They were merciless_ , she noted as she trailed behind them surreptitiously. _Like a hive of bees on the hunt for nectar._ Feliks and Toris were found outside a handbag store, and instantly cornered by the reporters. Microphones and cameras were shoved into their faces, and the paparazzi launched question after question, demanding an explanation for the glimpse into their love lives they had just been offered.

Feliks and Toris looked helpless, and the former looked like he was going to faint any moment. Toris had planted himself in front of his friend, spreading his arms out and shielding the other from the onslaught of camera flashes. She sped-walked towards the group, shouting, “Security! Security!”

The reporters immediately stopped and looked around, spotting the men in blue uniform heading towards them and hurriedly dispersing. She had already notified the guards earlier on, and when the guards left after making sure that Feliks and Toris were fine, she dove for her chance and headed in their direction too.

“Hello, I saw that you were being troubled by reporters and I notified the guards. Are you alright?” she asked warmly, the forced sweetness of her own voice making her stomach churn.

“Really? Thank you so much! We just came here for a much needed respite, and we didn’t know that the press would be here.” Toris was the first to speak, and he shook her hand in gratitude, smiling at her apologetically.

Feliks, however, simply gave her a curt “thank you”, before bursting into whiny complaints. “What have I done to deserve this? I can’t even _shop_ in peace now!”

_What have you done? A lot._ “Would you like to sit down for a break? I have water and aspirin with me, and the both of you look like you need some.”

They ended up sitting back at the fountain again, and Feliks took her aspirin and downed her bottle in huge gulps. “Thank you,” he returned the bottle with a small, lopsided smile. Toris rejected the aspirin and opted for the water instead, finishing the remaining of what Feliks had left.

“Your water tastes really weird,” Feliks commented. “But whatever. I’m thirsty.”

* * *

 

It was April, and Feliks Łukasiewicz had died from arsenic poisoning. Toris had fallen critically ill, but he had escaped death. After all, the bulk of the poison had been in the “aspirin” pills she had offered to them. 

“I’m sorry, I took some of your pills,” she told Gilbert, when she had gone to visit him again, armed with more newspaper reports about Feliks’ death. She had read the articles to him again, looking up time and time again from the newspaper to her beloved’s resting visage, hoping that the words she read out had the magic to pull him out from his coma. 

But even when she got to the end of the report, he remained still, his pale hair standing out splayed and smooth against the dark blue pillow and the beautiful eyes she had been yearning to see for so long still hidden beneath his pallid eyelids.

“Why won’t you wake up? I’ve been trying so hard, so why won’t you wake up? Why?” This time round, there was no gentleness in the way she put the newspaper down. She threw it onto the floor roughly, and stood up, her chair grating against the tiles. She was back to “Why”s again; back to square one; back to when she had just received the news that Gilbert had made an attempt to take his own life. And she was angrier.

“Why?” She was yelling now, and she slammed her fist onto the bedside table, knocking down the cup of water she always prepared. For just in case; but she had always ended up glugging down all of it when visiting hours ended alone.

That was it. Gilbert did not love her. If he did, he would have woken up ages ago just to see her. _Yes_ , that was it. That had to be it.

In her fury, she did not realize that her own hands had encircled around her beloved’s neck. The only clear thought on her mind was the fact that the man lying on the bed – the man she had loved and done so much for – did not care for her feelings. Shaking Gilbert forcefully, she demanded for him to wake up repeatedly, and did not even hear it when the door flew open. She did not even feel the policeman prying her fingers off Gilbert’s neck; did not even sense the tears streaming down her cheeks; did not even listen to her own screaming and orders being shouted for her to be restrained.

She did not even notice Roderich, who had been standing outside the ward, eyes overwhelmed with sadness and pain.

And Roderich, who had caved and gone to the police upon realizing that she had gotten out of control, felt a wave of unfamiliarity wash over him when her name was called out. For the past few months, he had felt as though she had become someone he barely knew; a stranger who had long gone mad from love and revenge. 

_“Elizabeta Héderváry, you are under arrest for murder.”_

                                                                                        

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I didn't put Elizabeta's name at first because I wanted it to symbolise her becoming someone different from who she once was, but I'm not sure if that worked out. xD Anyway, this is my first time writing such a fic and I hope that it was alright. 
> 
> Review, maybe? :D


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